


If I could be, I would be this with you forever

by RoswellSmokingWoman



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, First Time, First Time Blow Jobs, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Post-Episode: s01e08 Fromage, Season 1, just fuck me up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-09
Updated: 2020-04-09
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:33:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23557618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoswellSmokingWoman/pseuds/RoswellSmokingWoman
Summary: No one had ever touched Will Graham, before. Tonight, Will Graham needs to be claimed, to be worshiped. Maybe even, loved.
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 13
Kudos: 167
Collections: Just Fuck Me Up 2020





	If I could be, I would be this with you forever

**Author's Note:**

  * For [EmeraldTrident](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmeraldTrident/gifts).



The topic of sexuality had not come up, not ever, during one of their sessions. It wasn’t off-limits, per se, though it had never come up naturally. Will Graham admits, he is curious what the good Doctor would be attracted to, not because of any interest on his part, Will had never considered him in that way, but because he imagines Hannibal as something other than human, his hair too perfect and his suits too extravagant—no, Hannibal is something more akin to a fallen angel walking among men. It wouldn’t be that far of a stretch, then, for Will to think of Hannibal as some asexual being, not that sex is beneath him, no, just that he would have no impulse, no desire for it. The conclusion matches Hannibal’s stoic personality, Will decides.

Though, Will finds that Hannibal would not be aromatic. There’s a softness in his eyes, a kind of wistfulness that indicates Hannibal is no stranger to intense fantasies. Will ponders what they must be, surely no less tragic and exciting than the Greek tales of love. Hannibal must covet, adore whatever person enters his heart. He would toil for them, have his heart out on display for whoever would win his affections. Any love from a man so reserved must be intense, almost overwhelming, but it would be love all the same.

Will’s own opinions on those matters are complicated, he would say. He’d often ignored thinking of love or sex because it was in a way easier. Most people find his ticks and curious behaviors off-putting, which shields him from romantic involvement in most cases. It’s more problematic when he does want to form a connection, those same qualities becoming a barrier. Alana Bloom is not excluded, and it does hurt him to admit, that even one of his closest friends would also be hesitant to be something more simply because he is Will Graham, no words capable of truly describing him.

Alana Bloom is who they talk about, tonight. Hannibal sits across from him, leaning back in his chair and glass of wine in hand. Hannibal watches Will careful, an inexplicable expression on his face. For a moment, Hannibal reminds himself that Tobias Budge had not taken Will from him. Will is still here with him, and he is thankful. He won’t let Will see this weakness. Instead, he is professional tonight, sitting straight. While Hannibal is always like this, mysterious and reserved, he is evermore these things now. He hums at the taste of his wine, sweet and full under his tongue.

“Much has happened,” Hannibal begins, his voice breathy in an almost whisper.

“Tobias Budge.” Will pauses. “And now our positions are reversed… Did it feel good for you to kill Tobias Budge?” Will finds himself asking, echoing the very same question Hannibal had asked him about Garret Jacob Hobbs and Eldon Stammets. He feels powerful asking Hannibal this question as if their roles are reversed. He’s cast a line out into the river, bait bleeding into the water, enticing the fish to bite.

“The hour is about you, Will, whatever you wish to talk about. Why focus on little old me, all of a sudden?”

“I suppose I’m curious,” Will breathes shakily, gripping the armrests with his hands. “Would you indulge me, Doctor Lecter?”

Hannibal’s lips curl into the barest smile, biting the bait. “It felt necessary.” The words are apt, though not overly telling. He wouldn’t wish for Will to find out too soon about his little secrets. The time for that would come later if he deems it appropriate. Hannibal would not want for Will to figure him out a moment too soon.

“Do you find solace in murdering a serial killer?”

“Justice is too complex to find peace in. I would prefer to think that it was inevitable, by my hand or some other, that Tobias Budge would have met his demise not in a prison cell but by some universal accident in the meeting of a foe.”

“A foe… And would you consider him to be your enemy, then?”

“Wouldn’t we all consider those who threaten us to be our enemies? I am tasked with preserving my own life, which was threatened. Yes, Tobias Budge’s death was necessary only because I was in a position where keeping him alive would mean my own demise. Life is everything. Wouldn’t you do the same, Will?”

Will gulps down his wine aggressively as if searching for freedom from his inhibitions. “We all do what we have to, even if it means doing the unthinkable.”

Hannibal is satisfied with the response, a happy thrum in his heart. Will is particularly enticing tonight, the blueness of his eyes containing a wild flame. The rejection of his feelings by Alana Bloom had inspired this, Hannibal thinks. Will feels vengeful and he projects it onto Hannibal. “Though I wasn’t only talking about Tobias Budge,” Hannibal continues. “You have also undergone rejection.”

Will laughs bitterly, looking away from Hannibal. “Alana Bloom, you mean.”

“You’ve had feelings for her for quite some time, now. I’m concerned as a friend. You seem to be avoiding the topic of discussing this pain. Suppressing pain creates a hole within us, where we bury pain until the hole is too full. I sense you are testing the limits of your hole, Will.”

“I’m a big boy. I can handle a little heartbreak every now and again. And she was right, we would have been incompatible.”

“Big boy or not, I am here to listen. Have you had relationships in the past?” Hannibal is probing, wondering who had Will’s heart before. He is feeling awfully possessive tonight, thankful that Alana Bloom had not chanced to take Will’s heart for herself. She is not deserving of that prize; she cannot honor it.

“Flings, maybe. Nothing ever seemed to stick. Nobody wants to look into eyes that see through you. It makes you feel paper-thin, see-through. It’s uncomfortable knowing you have no chance of hiding. There was a boy…” Will begins, stopping himself.

Hannibal raises his eyebrow. “There is no judgment in this room, Will.”

“A boy in high school,” Will continues unsure, though the alcohol loosens his lips. “I was a teenager, with all those hormones that make you happy if someone so much as looks at you. That was a disaster, didn’t make it past the first kiss. A girl in college who could have been, a professor at Quantico—he was more curious about my mind than anything else, and then Alana Bloom. But the relationships never progressed farther than a few dates. Alana wasn’t even a relationship.” Will squirms in his seat uncomfortably.

“Something is troubling you, Will. You seem flustered.”

“Your turn,” Will bites back, standing from his chair to wander over to the bookshelves.

“I have little interest in relationships, I’ll admit,” Hannibal confesses as he stands, following Will slowly. “Though I’ve had them, they were mostly a means to an end and no more.”

Will squints, removing a book from the bookshelf and flipping through its pages haphazardly. “For sex, then?” It almost sounds ludicrous, imagining Hannibal and sex.

“Yes, though I don’t feel the drive, the lust for others. Occasionally my interest is peaked. We are all human, after all. And for you, Will? Were these relationships, these flings, for physical satisfaction?”

Hannibal observes Will, Will’s back turned to him. He’s hiding something, Hannibal realizes. It is why Will had stood and fled. Hannibal wouldn’t allow for Will to remain closed off to him tonight. Hannibal needs to know more, needs these questions answered. A part of him devises the meals he would make, of those that had claimed Will—quite rude for them to lay their hands on the porcelain skin of Adonis only to shudder in horror in the afterward. Evermore rude to temporarily stake claim to something which is not theirs to have, to hold.

“No,” Will shudders, “not for…” He places the book back in its place, shoving it to the back of the shelf aggressively before turning, finding Hannibal in front of him, the space between them ever so thin. He backs away, but his back hits the bookshelf.

“Have you ever been touched, Will?”

Will shakes his head, gulping, whispering almost pitifully, “No…” It’s nearly a sob, Will disappointed in himself. No one had ever wanted him like that, not after finding out the handful they would have. Will is too cumbersome for sex, even one-night stands on the off chance they should become something more.

“Do you want to be?” Hannibal dares to ask, lust pooling in the darkness of his burnt caramel eyes. He brushes a finger over Will’s lip, soft under his touch.

With their bodies achingly close to each other, the lines of Hannibal’s face accentuated in the dim light of the room, Will realizes the attractiveness of the man in front of him. He’d never thought of him in this way before, his attention instead consumed by Alana. He had been blind, stupidly so, to the shiver Hannibal sends down his spine with the briefest glance. Will licks his lips, gasping as he watches Hannibal’s lips part.

“Would you like me to touch you, Will?”

“Please, Hannibal,” Will begs, quivering as Hannibal closes the space between them and places a hot kiss on his lips, shaking his world.

It is strange, to find himself now, like putty in Hannibal’s hands. Each touch scorches his skin, hot like an iron rod. Every breath against his skin is a thrill, enticing and addictive. When Hannibal parts from Will, Will is left in an instantaneous withdrawal, craving for more. He could become dependent on Hannibal’s attentions, Will thinks to himself.

“Did you just kiss me?” he asks shakily.

“I believe I did. Is that a problem?” Hannibal asks, taking Will’s hand tenderly, lacing his fingers into Will’s.

“The problem is I want more.”

Hannibal pushes a stray curl behind Will’s ear before cupping his face and gazing into his eyes, lowering his lips closer to Will’s but leaving a sliver of space between them. “If I continue, I will not be able to stop myself.”

“I don’t want you to stop,” Will whispers, closing the space between them.

The next moments are a blur as their clothes come off, scattered across the room, Hannibal guiding them to the chaise longue. Will’s back hits the cold leather of it and he gasps in shock, Hannibal smothering it as he presses harder into Will’s lips. Their kisses are fervent, hungry. Hannibal had wanted Will from the moment he had laid eyes on him, wanted to taste every inch of his flesh, to elicit sweet sounds from this perfect creature beneath him. He was a fool to think back then that it would be a fleeting desire, that soon the lustful fire within him would quell and he’d be left with a different urge, more familiar to him.

Instead, he wants to be consumed by Will Graham. But first, he must show Will what it is to be desired, to be worshipped. Hannibal is a slave to the idea, becoming obsessed with it from that moment onwards. “Tell me, Will. Has anyone ever touched you like this before?”

“No,” Will moans out, his cock pressing against Hannibal’s thigh. His back arches as Hannibal takes his cock into his hand, stroking the sensitive nerve of it lightly.

“No what?”

“You are the first,” Will elaborates, dipping his head back in pleasure. Will stops him then, placing his hands on Hannibal’s chest and pushing. “Are you sure?” Will asks in disbelief.

“I should be asking you.”

“Are you sure you want me?” Will repeats, unable to think that Hannibal could desire him too. He had never given Will any indication before, though Will knows he had never looked in Hannibal’s eyes to find it—not before tonight.

“I will worship you,” Hannibal breathes, pressing a kiss on his neck, downwards onto his collarbone, his chest, his belly, to the pubic bone. “I will show every inch of you pleasure, Will. Would you give me that honor?”

“Yes, Hannibal. I want it to be you, for you to be my first.”

Hannibal takes Will’s cock into his mouth, licking the tip teasingly. Will lets out a frustrated groan, gripping the edges of the couch with his hands. “You’re such a tease,” he laughs.

“Good things come to those who wait.” He takes the full length of Will into his mouth then, licking the back of Will’s cock with every upward motion of his mouth.

“I’m going to—” Will shouts, “I’m going to cum.”

“Not yet, my darling. The first time you cum from me will be with me inside of you.”

Will nods frantically. “I need you, Hannibal, please.”

“I’m sorry but I wasn’t prepared for the occasion. You’ll have to excuse me for a second. Don’t move.” Hannibal stands from the bed, retrieving lube from his desk. Will doesn’t dare to ask why Hannibal has lube in his office, preferring to think Hannibal was waiting for the right occasion with him rather than with anyone else.

Hannibal returns, taking Will’s hand and squirting lube into it. “Would you?” Hannibal rasps, guiding Will’s hand to his cock.

Will nods, “Of course.” He strokes Hannibal’s thick, long cock, covering it until the entirety of it glistens in the light.

“I will go slowly. Tell me if anything hurts,” Hannibal whispers, positioning himself over Will. He first inserts a finger, then two, prepping him. After a third, Will writhing underneath Hannibal’s touch as he brushes his finger over Will’s prostate, Hannibal feels that Will is ready.

“I want you, Hannibal.”

Hannibal kisses Will as he inserts himself inside of Will, tight but not painfully so. Will whines out at the sensation, confused. It’s unlike anything he’s ever felt before, his body shaking. “Am I hurting you?”

“No, no. The opposite. I need more, Hanni,” Will pleads, burying his hands into Hannibal’s sandy strands.

“So needy, my pet.” Hannibal nibbles on Will’s neck, leaving the barest bruise on it. When Will would wake tomorrow, he would be reminded of this night, of who had claimed him.

Hannibal thrusts into Will harder, in and out until they settle into a comfortable pace. Will passes his hands over Hannibal’s arms, his chest, feeling the softness of his body covering the thick layer of muscle.

In that moment, as Hannibal thrusts into Will’s virgin hole, Hannibal becomes everything to Will, an angel, a demon, a life, a death… Will’s eyes roll back as the throws of climax overtake him, his hot seed spilling onto his belly. Hannibal smiles, groaning out as he cums into Will moments later.

Hannibal lies down next to Will, taking Will into his arms, kissing his cheek lovingly. “How was it?” He presses kisses into Will’s shoulder, like the soft flutter of a butterfly’s wings, in his own way letting Will know the depth of care he has for him.

“Transcendental,” Will utters, holding onto Hannibal as if he’s an anchor tethering him to reality.

As they lay on the bed, unmoving, hot and sticky from sex, Will hopes it would never change—that he and Hannibal could be this forever, unbitten by the cruelty of their lives outside of these walls. Will feels like a naïve schoolboy, falling for the person of his first encounter, but he cannot help himself. Their bond had grown steadily, from first meeting and disinterest, to friendship, to now this blissful, divine experience. And so he lets himself, in the afterglow of sex, believe that Hannibal loves him. 

“When I leave what will we be?” Will asks him honestly, eyes watering.

“Whatever you wish, Will,” Hannibal admits. The words crush Will, who looks away for a moment, wondering what he would do with Hannibal's ambiguous, undefined words. It is too much responsibility on Will's shoulder's--what if Hannibal shouldn't want him? 

Hannibal cannot bring himself to understand then, that this night is more than claiming Will. This night is the first stop of loving Will Graham, only he would realize this much later. But in the present, he loses himself in the smell of Will, the aftershave with a ship on the bottle which smells so alluring now. He would return to the office in the morning, to sit on the chaise longue, to inhale the very scent that appalled him before. For one night, Hannibal Lecter allows himself to believe in a fantasy where he and Will can be together like this, time stopping around them, together.

But, like many nights of lost virginity, Will goes home hours later, returning to his dogs with a sigh, tears prickling his eyes. He thinks of Jack Crawford and the FBI, the Chesapeake Ripper looming overhead, and the Ravenstag and its friend the Wendigo which visit him every so often to remind him—he is not normal, not sane. Hannibal is the opposite of his instability, of his mess. He tucks himself into bed that night, no strong arms to wrap themselves around him, no raspy voice to lull him to sleep, determined that when he would wake up the next day, he would not love Hannibal. He would keep him in a box, hidden away, cherished and often visited, but he would never let himself fall to the urge. Hannibal and he simply could not be. The thought crushes him, that he would be satisfied with friendship instead.

But tonight, Will lets it slip from his lips innocently, broken in the air, “I love you, Hannibal.”


End file.
